


The Barmaid

by angstbot



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Character Death, Domestic Violence, F/F, Heterosexual Sex, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:05:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstbot/pseuds/angstbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barmaid and sea captain's wife Emma Swan catches the attention of Queen Regina, and they strike up an unlikely friendship that becomes more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an EF AU. Regina is the same person she is in canon except there's no vengeance campaign against Snow, but everyone else is partially a mashup of FTL and Storybrooke identities, with a little massaging to make them fit. 
> 
> Emma is married to Hook in this story. There will be marital sexing at some point. There will also be domestic violence. If either of those things is upsetting to you, I am sorry to lose you, but you probably shouldn't proceed.

“Hey little girl, is your daddy home? Did he go away and leave you all alone?”

Glancing up, Regina saw the blonde barmaid’s jaw tighten briefly in rage before she put on a false smile. “I know it’s confusing for you, Victor, but Killian is my _husband_.” She enunciated the word slowly. “Not my father. And you know perfectly well he’s at sea.”

“Your bed must get very cold and lonely when Killy-poo’s away with his other lover. How sad to come second to a ship,” the man said with false solicitude, then added, “I could certainly come warm you up.”

“Not if I was sleeping on a bed of ice,” the barmaid replied with a smile that was really more baring her teeth than anything.

He flushed angrily and leapt to his feet, swaying a little in his drunkenness. “Ungrateful wench!”

“That’s enough, Victor. I’m cutting you off,” Granny said, hefting her crossbow menacingly. “Get out of my tavern.” She watched him with hardened eyes until the door closed behind him, then swung her piercing gaze over the room. “Show’s over, people.”

The queen dropped her eyes back to her drink, chafing at having to obey a peasant but reminding herself sternly that it wouldn’t do to give away her identity. She was dressed as a relatively prosperous merchant, slightly above the average of this establishment, but nowhere near her true status, and it was imperative that she act the part.

In theory, she had complete freedom as the queen now that she’d disposed of her husband and married off his brat to King George’s son. In practice, having everyone she encountered perpetually treat her as The Queen and not Regina wore on her, leading her to disguise herself and go among the common people. It was safe enough because she retained her capacity to use magic, though of course it was better if she didn’t. Sorcery tended to draw exactly the sort of attention she was seeking to avoid.

“Last call, Madam Merchant.” Regina was startled out of her thoughts and looked up to see the blonde barmaid standing over her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s nearly closing time, so I’ll get you one more, but that will have to be it.” The queen was surprised to realize how much time had passed while she was lost in thought. The tavern was nearly empty now, just a few determined dwarves trying to drink each other under the table in the corner. The other workers had also seemingly left, leaving only the blonde. “Unless you’d like to stay the night,” the barmaid added. Regina choked and sputtered and her eyes flicked involuntarily to the blonde’s ample display of bosom. “God, I’m not propositioning you! I’m asking if you need _lodging_.” She sighed, then muttered under her breath, “What is it with people today?”

Regina felt herself blush. It had been a _very_ long time, but that was no excuse. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean- Does that happen to you often?”

“What? Being propositioned? All the time. Men assume that being a barmaid means I’m available.” The blonde shrugged.

“But aren’t you married?” The queen didn’t think a mere peasant woman, even one with as much spunk as this young thing seemed to have, would defy her husband. She herself, nobility though she’d been, keenly remembered how much she’d been the king’s property in his lifetime—which was, of course, why she’d killed him.

The barmaid gave a tight smile. “Men assume that because my husband is away so often I am desperate for their companionship. Which I’m not.” She scoffed. “Certainly not the sort being offered by the furry, smelly, drunken ones that tend to insist.”

Regina chuckled. “I’d imagine.” A beat, and then she became more serious. “But it doesn’t get lonely?” The echoing emptiness of her palace, even filled with servants as it was, was what had her out here pretending not to be queen, after all.

“That’s an awfully personal question for someone who doesn’t even know my name,” the blonde said, placing both hands on the table leaning forward. This time, the queen managed not to have her eyes fall to the soft curves of her breasts, but it was a near thing.

To distract herself, Regina asked, “Would you tell me?”

“What?”

“If I asked your name, would you tell me?”

“If you’ll do the same,” the barmaid challenged.

Regina did not have a plan for this, and her mind flailed around for a solution before hitting on an old nickname her father had used. “Gina,” she supplied, holding out her hand to shake as commoners did.

The blonde gripped it heartily. “Pleased to meet you, Gina. I’m Emma. And no, I don’t get very lonely. After all,” she said as she released the queen’s hand, “I work in a tavern where I continuously meet mysterious, beautiful women who lie to me about their identities.” All Regina could do was blink, unsure how she’d been caught out by a mere peasant. She’d been so careful not to go to an establishment frequented by anyone who could possibly have ever come to her castle. As if sensing her distress, the blonde sat down across from her and gripped her hand where it rested on the table. “I can tell when people are lying, but I’ll keep your secret.”

“That must be a useful skill,” the older woman replied shortly, the care shown her by a stranger making her uncomfortable and prickly.

“My friend Ruby teases me that it’s my magic power,” Emma explained. “It’s very handy for the tavern. Less so with my husband, who’s kind of a habitual liar. It’s actually more remarkable when what’s coming out of his mouth is the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” Regina murmured, putting her own hand over the blonde’s where it still held hers on the table.

“When a man takes that kind of fancy to you and he’s got a steady job, you overlook the rest.” Emma blinked. “I don’t know why I told you that.”

“Sometimes, the truth pushes its bitter way out of your mouth. It’s better not to swallow it back,” Regina said, thinking almost more of herself. She shook herself.  “I’ll listen,” she offered, strangely drawn to this woman in a way she couldn't explain.

“That would be nice. I’ll just throw out the dwarves.” After she’d done so, she came back with a rag and a bucket of steaming water. “Mind if I work while we talk? Tables have to get wiped down whether I have company or not.” Regina nodded, uncertain of how to proceed, and the blonde went on, “I’d ask you to help, but I’m fairly certain you wouldn’t know what end of the rag to use.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You may be dressed like a merchant, Gina, but you are clearly a noblewoman.”

“Oh? Did your magical power tell you that?” the queen challenged.

“No.” Emma cocked her head, as if trying to puzzle out what she’d discerned. “It’s the way you carry yourself. The assurance,” the blonde was looking at her in an intense way that made Regina feel truly _seen_ for the first time since she was a girl. Since Daniel- “And besides,” the blonde went on, sparing her further reflection, “if I didn’t know already, your handshake would have given it away.” She reached one warm, wet hand to tweak her fingers playfully. “No working merchant has skin this soft.”

“You’re very observant, Emma,” the queen said, smiling up at her, and their eyes caught and held and held and held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story, as is clear from the first line, was inspired by an associative chain including a lot of time with Bruce Springsteen's I'm On Fire. It's a thread, but this isn't really a songfic per se.
> 
> The idea hit me and wouldn't leave me alone, but updates are going to be slow because I already committed to write SEVEN one-shots in the near future.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan right now is that chapters will alternate point of view. So this one’s Emma, who does not yet know Regina’s real name.

They talked for hours, far into the night and almost to sunrise. Gina was so easy to talk to that Emma found herself letting down her usual guard, sharing deeply personal and painful stories she would ordinarily never even _consider_ telling a near-stranger, but the older woman was doing the same, and she got the feeling that wasn’t her usual way either. Something about them just slotted together.

Perhaps it was how much they had in common. They had both lost their first loves, though Gina’s loss to her mother’s machinations was a bit more romantic than Baelfire leaving her alone and pregnant as he fled to escape punishment for a theft. Both their parents had put their own happiness above theirs. Emma’s had abandoned her in a basket on the side of the road with nothing more than a blanket and a swan charm to say who she was, and despite spending her childhood a lost little girl who didn’t matter and didn’t think she ever would, the barmaid thought she probably had it easier, given the way Gina described her overbearing mother and the intense control she’d exercised over every aspect of her life.

They had even both ended up in unhappy marriages because they had few options, though Gina had escaped hers eventually and Emma saw no such relief on the horizon. “He’s nice to look at,” she found herself sighing, “but ultimately as slimy as his ship.”

“So why-” Gina began, then caught herself. “I’m sorry, it’s not my business and I shouldn’t be telling you how to live your life.”

“No,” the blonde hastened to say, reaching to squeeze the older woman’s hand where it rested on the heavy wooden table. “You’re right. I should leave him to the airheaded wenches who are taken in by his outward features and not bothered by the fact that he’s a scoundrel. “But he is very-” she paused, searching for the right way to explain. “He has always been very insistent that I should be with him, and it isn’t easy finding a man who’ll have you when you already have a child.”

“I love children,” Gina murmured, a hint of regret in her tone.

“But you have none of your own?”

“I did after a fashion. My husband was quite explicitly seeking a new wife to mother his daughter, and I could probably have loved her. But when I discovered that the brat had been the one to tell my mother about Daniel-” the noblewoman trailed off, her face hardening for a moment. Then she sighed and went on. “And I loathed my husband too much to give him any, though not for lack of his trying.”

Emma blinked, not quite following. She’d heard of such things, but didn’t know how it could be accomplished. “You prevented it?”

“I terminated the pregnancies, yes.” The older woman smiled bitterly. “A difficult decision, but I certainly didn’t want to bear any of his get.”

“That might have been useful when I found myself in trouble,” Emma began thoughtfully, but then shook it off. “But I love Henry completely and I can’t imagine not having him. He’s the one good thing in my life.”

Gina gave a small snort of amusement. “Henry is my father’s name.”

“You’re fond of him,” Emma said, feeling suddenly very sure.

The noblewoman nodded acknowledgement. “I love him more than anyone in all the world, even if I can’t quite forgive him for never protecting me from my mother.” The bone-deep bitterness threaded through that care struck Emma hard in the chest, and she reached to lay her other hand atop the older woman’s, only then realizing that they had been holding hands on the tabletop this entire time.

Their eyes, both shiny with unshed tears from the painful depths their conversation had plumbed, met and held once more. Gina flexed her fingers up, and their fingers intertwined, and it was deeply, comfortably intimate in a way that should have been terrifying, but, strangely, wasn’t.

**

Gina returned the next night, and again a few nights later, and gradually it became a regular occurrence. The noblewoman would arrive shortly before closing, wait until Emma had thrown out the incorrigible drunkards, and then they would talk and talk and talk. They spoke of their histories, but also, gradually, their hopes and dreams for the future.

The isolation of their daily existence may have been why they were so eager to have someone to talk to, but the sheer volume of commonalities pulled them together, and their complementarities kept it entertaining, Gina’s cutting little witticisms alternately startling the barmaid and pulling her into verbal sparring. 

After several weeks of this, Killian came home, and Emma found herself missing her evenings with Gina immensely. Partially, this was because she had to mend his leathers and his underthings and his socks, but partially it was because he was such a lacking conversationalist, particularly by contrast to the older woman’s keen intelligence and genuine interest. She also found her wifely duty rather more unbearable than usual. But soon, as he always did, the captain went to sea again.

Gina came by a few nights later and was visibly relieved not to see Killian holding court with the worst of the scoundrels. She had popped in periodically, but always left in a hurry after catching Emma’s eye and sharing a brief smile.

“You seem to have misplaced your anchor,” the noblewoman teased when Emma came to ask what she’d like this evening.

“Quite a seaworthy metaphor coming from someone like you, milady,” the barmaid sassed her right back. “Yes, my husband has gone away to sea.”

Gina chuckled. “We should celebrate. How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you’ve ever tasted?”

Emma was skeptical. “You _do_ realize that knowing about alcohol is part of my business. Noble or not, I doubt you have anything so unique.”

“I have a special supplier,” the noblewoman insisted with a superior tilt to her chin that the barmaid found strangely endearing. “I’ll go and bring some for us.”

The last few evenings they had spent together prior to Killian’s return had been in Emma’s rented quarters above the taproom, and it was there that Regina came knocking after the barmaid had closed up shop, bottle in hand.

The blonde blinked at it as she brought two cups to the table. “This is the royal seal.”

Gina smirked. “It’s terribly convenient to have friends in high places. Try it.”

The barmaid did in fact have to admit that it was the best she’d had, and the noblewoman’s smile was entirely worth the loss of professional superiority.

Seeing Gina looking with surprise at Henry’s empty pallet in the corner, Emma explained, “I apprenticed him to the stable boy.” Was that a flicker of something on the noblewoman’s face? “My son was rather too interested in Killian’s wild tales this last visit. I’m afraid that when he turns thirteen he’ll go to sea if I don’t get him interested in something else. He likes horses. It seems worth trying. So he’s learning night watching this week.”

The noblewoman smiled at her with her usual combination of sincerity and reserve, and the barmaid assumed she’d imagined the expression. The night was chilly, and they quickly decided to pull chairs toward the fire rather than sitting across from one another at the table. As the two women settled in to talk and drink the cider, Emma found that though it was strong it didn’t deprive her of her faculties. It did leave her pleasantly warm. Or was that the fire? Or the company?

They were sitting so, so close to each other now, and Gina was looking at her like, like- like Bae had, care and wonder and- _desire_. It was surprising, but Emma was even more startled to realize she shared the feeling. Before she could think better of it she had leaned forward to kiss the noblewoman.

Gina made a little startled noise in her throat, but kissed back eagerly enough, her hands coming up to cup the blonde’s cheeks. Her mouth was so soft, so gentle, and yet so passionate, and Emma wanted- she wanted-

She broke the kiss, bringing her hand to her lips, which still tingled. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, blushing furiously.

“Don’t be. It’s something we both wanted.”

“I’m married, and you’re a woman, and I really shouldn’t be kissing someone whose true name I don’t know,” Emma sputtered.

“Regina,” the older woman supplied in an instant.

The barmaid’s heart stopped in her chest. “Regina?” she choked out. “There’s only one noblewoman named Regina. You’re- you’re the _Queen_? I knew you were nobility but-”

“Emma, Emma,” Regina soothed her, cupping her suddenly icy hands in her warm ones. “I’m still just your friend.”

That didn’t help matters much. “I don’t think friends do this.”

Regina smiled, and it was a bit devious. “The best part of being queen is that you can do anything you like.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note updated tags. This got kind of emotionally/psychologically intense.

They just looked at each other for what felt to Regina like an eternity, the moment balanced on a knife’s point. The queen was quite willing to go on kissing the barmaid, but ultimately it was Emma’s marriage, Emma’s discomfort with kissing another woman, Emma’s decision, and so she waited. Green eyes searched the older woman’s face, darting back to her lips again and again, and then, suddenly, the blonde gave a tiny nod and leaned in to press their mouths together again.

Their contact was sweet and intense and _right_ , emerging naturally from the intimacy they’d built up over all their long nights talking. Regina sank into the sensation, letting the emotional warmth mingle with the barmaid’s body heat into something she didn’t want to let herself examine too closely. The queen was surprised by her eagerness to escalate, to pull Emma closer, to meld them more completely, and it was just as well that she was letting the blonde take the lead, lest this get entirely out of hand.

After several long moments, she felt Emma’s tongue brush over her lips and met it gladly with her own. Their kiss was slow and deep and felt like a profound connection. When the barmaid gave a little hum of pleasure against her mouth, desire surged through her. The blonde was cupping Regina’s face in eager hands now, and the queen responded by threading her fingers through silky hair and dropping the hand other to her waist to pull their bodies tight together.

Regina should have been frightened by the intensity, terrified because this was rapidly becoming a far greater connection than she’d ever felt for another person, worried by the fact that the person in question was married to someone else. But something about them just slotted together like well-joined woodwork, and after a lifetime starved for affection she wasn’t about to give it up.

**

After that, kissing became as deeply embedded in their interactions as intense conversation, and so did curling into one another, soft touches on cheeks and shoulders, entwining fingers, stroking hair. Regina felt desire for the blonde, of course, but this basic human touch and care was a revelation.

These sorts of simple affectionate contact had always been denied to her. Her mother perceived love as weakness and was unable to feel it fully in any event without the heart she’d pulled out to devote herself to power. Her father did hug her, kiss her scraped knees, dance her around the room on his feet, but Cora disapproved of all of it as coddling her and he was too firmly under her thumb to try it when he might get caught.

And so, the physical contact she had, from birth to the present, divided rather neatly into violence and the impersonal hands of servants. Her mother’s restraints and magical infliction of pain transitioned to her husband’s open palm and rough invasion of her body, but the difference was unremarkable. These days the only people to touch her were the maidens who bathed and clothed her and whichever guard helped her into and out of the carriage.

Some days she didn’t dwell on it terribly much either way. Others she craved the warmth of those fleeting hands. And some days the fact that this was all there was weighed so heavily on her that she would send them all away and rock, sobbing, until the bathwater grew cold. That excruciating isolation was what had sent her out among the people in disguise.

She had to be disguised, of course, because the people did not love her, even with Snow White off being another land’s queen. She could handle herself perfectly well, but would never get the human contact she craved as Queen Regina. She knew that there were rumors about the queen’s dark appetites, tales that strapping guards and comely maidens disappeared into her bedchamber never to be seen again, and it made the loneliness all the more unbearable. And yet, fear was a very effective tool. None of her men were likely to try to force themselves on her if they thought she might force herself on them. A few had offered themselves to her, guard here and serving maiden there, and sometimes in a moment of weakness she would allow it, but how could they mean it when she was queen?

But Emma- Emma meant it. Emma had grown close to her without knowing of her station and continued to choose to touch and kiss her evening after evening, green eyes bright with care and desire.

Tonight, Henry was gone again, having really taken to the horses and started working quite regularly with the staff of the tavern’s stables. Knowing that they did not have an all-too-curious audience left them freer to be more daring than they had been when he was home.

The queen was straddling the blonde’s lap, her riding pants allowing more range of motion than the barmaid’s full skirt, as they kissed hungrily. Their bodies were pressed tight together, their hands cupping jaws, tangling in hair, clutching backs, grasping hips, and soon Regina began interspersing their kisses with nipping at Emma’s lips, running her teeth over her jaw, sucking lightly at her neck, re-grounding them at the mouth between each new caress.

Just as the older woman needed to exert all of her formidable willpower to keep her hips from rocking against the blonde’s, Emma asked, “Will you take me to bed?”

They kissed their way across the small apartment to the barmaid’s bed, and then Emma pulled Regina down on top of her. The queen’s hands were immediately eager on the ties holding the blonde’s corset closed, peeling it away, leaving her in the light blouse she wore underneath. Then Emma’s hands were on her as well, tracing the buttons holding the older woman’s riding jacket taut across her chest, and she pulled away from her mouth just enough to murmur, “I love these straining buttons” before going to work at undoing them.

So it went, kissing, undressing each other slowly, Emma’s heavy skirts and underskirts soon joining Regina’s riding pants on the floor, until they were both in their undergarments. As the queen tucked her fingers under the edge to remove the last bit of cloth between them, she met the barmaid’s eyes and held them. “May I?” she asked, needing to be sure.

“Please,” Emma groaned. “And me?” she added, her own hands poised.

 “Yes,” the queen purred.

The touch of cool air made Regina suddenly desperate for skin-to-skin contact, and then they were pressed together full-length for the first time, simultaneously making little pleased noises. There was more kissing now, the older woman’s thigh pressing steady-sweet against the blonde. When her hips began to move, Regina took it as her cue to kiss over Emma’s chin-jaw-neck, down onto her chest. The barmaid’s collarbones were a delight in her mouth, and she stroked her cheek on her sternum, and she pressed a sweet kiss between her breasts. And then- oh- her breasts.  They were perfect, her taut nipples just begging to be touched.

It turned out that the blonde was incredibly sensitive, the queen’s breath on her nipples making her gasp. Regina licked a slow stripe across one breast and then the other, then blew across each nipple, watching with eager eyes as they became perfectly erect, and when she took one into her mouth, the blonde moaned and cupped the back of her head. She sucked experimentally, and Emma groaned. She swirled her tongue, and that was almost a whimper. Adding the sharp edge of teeth made the barmaid arch her back.

The older woman sucked and bit at one nipple and then the other, back and forth until Emma was writhing and breathing hard. “God, Regina, more- I need-” she sputtered, uncertain. “Touch me. Something. Anything.”


	4. Chapter 4

Regina gave a warm chuckle and kissed her between the breasts, and Emma realized she’d spread her legs quite wantonly in her eagerness. Then she felt warm, soft fingers trailing up her thigh, only to gasp at the first contact not only because it felt incredible but because she was wetter than she could ever remember. The queen began rubbing slow circles, and it was so good that her hips twitched hard and she gripped the bedding with both hands.

After several long moments on her back and spread for whatever Regina wanted to do to her, the older woman purred, “You don’t have to be so passive, my darling.” Emma blinked in confusion. Lying back and receiving had always been her role. “Come, sit in my lap,” the queen added.

Regina positioned herself against the headboard, legs crossed, and guided the blonde to straddle her the way they often kissed. And then the older woman was cupping her face in both hands for another intense kiss that left the barmaid’s hips jerking against nothing and made her moan into her mouth.

The queen wrapped her arms around Emma’s back and pulled them together, and as the blonde obligingly shifted forward to wrap her legs around the older woman she brushed wetly against the slight curve of her stomach and gasped.

Regina gave her a soft kiss and then slid one hand between them to cup her gently. They resumed their deep kisses as the older woman began a slow, almost lazy, stroking, and the blonde found herself gasping into her mouth at how much it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

After many long, wonderful moments, she realized what felt so different. “Are you going to go inside?”

“Only if you want me to,” Regina murmured. Emma paused, startled, because no one had ever asked her that before.

“I think- I want- to feel you _more_ ,” she answered after a moment. Feeling Regina’s fingers slip lower, she tensed slightly for the burn, but the queen slid in so easily and when the palm of her hand made contact too the sensation raced like liquid heat through her veins. “Oh- Oh! I didn’t know it could be like this,” she breathed as the older woman began pushing into her, slow and steady.

“Nor I, my darling,” Regina replied, and somehow Emma knew she didn’t just mean the physical aspects. A beat later, she realized she didn’t either, and their eyes locked for long minutes.

Soon, the barmaid was shuddering hard, her body on fire with how good the queen felt. “I love feeling you so deep inside me,” she murmured as her hips instinctively worked to ride the queen’s hand. This was almost painfully perfect, and there was nothing else that mattered in the world right now but these points of contact, Regina’s fingers and palm and mouth. She loved the way they pressed so fully together, breast and stomach and mirrored thudding of hearts.

This was intimacy, this was harmony, this was a litany of things they had both long since stopped believing in, and she was spiraling higher, and higher, feeling the sensation building and building inside until a wave of ecstasy raced through her body.

The instant she had any kind of bodily control again, the barmaid was kissing the queen fiercely, devouring her mouth only briefly before moving down her chin and over her jaw. Regina made a little pleasure sound as Emma’s mouth reached her neck, and she groaned right back, kissing, nipping, just opening her mouth against her trying to get her inside it. The blonde felt overwhelmed by her own luck to be here with this flawless woman, the exquisite intimacy of skin, mouth, touch.

As her lips reached the base of the queen’s neck, Emma’s attention was captivated by the delectable line of her collarbone. She kissed along it open-mouthed, liking the hardness of it against the softness of the older woman’s flesh. Then there was the soft curve of her shoulder muscle, and as she kissed up and over Regina gave a low, delighted chuckle and tipped obligingly forward to allow access.

But Emma found she wanted more, urging the queen to slide forward down the bed, sliding in behind her when she could and gripping her waist with both hands as she lavished kisses over her shoulder and across her back. Something about the older woman’s spine captivated her, and soon she was nuzzling, kissing, stroking her cheek against warm skin up and down the valley between curves of firm muscle.

And then the queen’s ribs needed to be showered with kisses around their curve, and her elbow needed to be sucked on ever so slightly. Regina’s bicep definitely needed light contact of teeth and oh- her breasts. Emma was faced with them before she realized, and the whole world seemed to stop. They were so perfect, so beautiful, and her nipples looked so deliciously eager to be touched. The blonde pressed a sweet kiss to each of them and then oh-so-tentatively took one into her mouth.

God, making contact felt so good, and Regina’s sharp inhalation made it even better. The world contracted to this touch, the queen’s little pleasure sounds and the heaven of her skin. The blonde sucked gently for a moment, switching to the other side as her hands kept exploring, sliding up the older woman’s legs to grip her knees, then along the outside to her hips, only to be caught in a gentle grip.

As the blonde looked up to meet the older woman’s eyes, Regina guided her hand over the curve of her hip to where she was absolutely soaked, and Emma just _moaned_ around the nipple in her mouth. The barmaid wasn’t quite sure of herself, but the response to her first, tentative stroke against the queen was enough to keep her going. God, the silky slickness of Regina was intoxicating, and Emma found herself whimpering too.

After several long minutes of this, the older woman insisted, “Inside,” and the blonde had two fingers in her before she could even think that she didn’t know how to do such a thing to someone else. The barmaid started pushing into the queen, slow and steady, trying to fit her hand the right direction-

“Thumb, like that, yes,” Regina instructed, and once she was turned the proper direction she found her hand fit exactly. And god, the sensation of the older woman’s muscles gripping to pull her deeper, keep her inside, was so hot she thought she might combust.

Just feeling her like this was so good, and their eyes locked for long minutes, and the only thing Emma could think was, “You’re so fucking beautiful,” not meaning to say it out loud until it pushed its way out of her mouth on the strength of her adoration.

“God, get up here,” the queen groaned, urging the blonde upward as she lay back and pulling her down on top. Once she settled on top of the older woman, the barmaid slid her fingers back in easy as breathing, and the way Regina’s body arched sharply against her in response was incredibly erotic.  She found her thumb slipping easily against the queen, and when Regina wrapped her legs around her and her hips began rising to meet her it was simply incredible.

They fell immediately into a rhythm, their bodies rocking together as they kissed like it was the end of the world. They were strangely, wonderfully well-matched, like they were made for each other, two people becoming one perfect thing for several exquisite minutes. This was heavenly, Regina’s sounds increasing in frequency and volume and the warmth of their mingled breath. Emma gave her everything she had, wanting the older woman’s pleasure so much it almost hurt. As she started to feel the queen spiraling higher, she instinctively intensified her caress.

And Regina was gorgeous and she was breathy and she was perfect and she was coming, gripping Emma tightly with every muscle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to @heyyouwiththeboobs for listening to my quest for a way to describe nipples that isn't awful.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s where things start to get dark. Warning for some domestic violence with the CS marriage. But first there’s more ladysexing, with a feels warning.

Regina held Emma against her tightly while she rode out the aftershocks. Once she could, she moved her hands from the blonde’s shoulders to cup her face for a kiss, and the barmaid eagerly kissed back. After several minutes kissing slow, gentle, deep, Emma shifted to press closer, causing her thigh to slip between the queen’s and her sex to press wetly against her skin. They moaned into each other’s mouths at the contact, and the older woman felt _need_ rush through her.

Pulling back the tiniest breath of a distance, she murmured, “May I taste you, my darling?”

The shuddering gasp of agreement made Regina’s desire spiral even higher, and when she had the blonde on her back she could hardly kiss down her body fast enough, digging in her teeth in a few places on the way down just to get Emma in her mouth. As queen, she no longer had to do anything for anyone, was the center of all things, and yet this woman made her want to _give_.

Settling between the blonde’s spread thighs, she just _looked_ at her a long, long moment, long enough that Emma’s hips twitched as if to curl up and hide and she murmured, “You don’t have to. I know it’s-” she paused, searching for the word, “a chore.”

“Not in the slightest,” the queen insisted, and her heart ached for the barmaid as she met her ashamed gaze. “It is wonderful and intimate and I was simply distracted because you are _beautiful_.” Without breaking eye contact, she brought her mouth to the barmaid’s cunt and gave the first soft, easy stroke. She was slightly self-conscious that she moaned and her eyes rolled back in her head, but the sound was echoed by the other woman.

Regina made long, slow motions, down to her opening and up to her clit, curling her tongue as she reversed the direction, her touch soft, but direct. Emma was so slick and so hot and shuddering so hard that she wanted to be here like this forever giving her pleasure. As the queen gradually intensified her touch, the blonde began to make marvelous little breathy noises, and when she wrapped her arms around Emma’s thighs to keep her hips steady she found herself thoroughly enamored of the clenching of under her hands.

It was all entirely sublime, and they intensified together, the older woman escalating her touch coaxing more response calling for more touch, until the blonde reached her peak, and when her body arched completely off the bed Regina’s heart stopped at the sheer beauty of it.

The queen kissed her way back up the barmaid’s body, settling beside her, half draped over, stroking sweaty hair back from her face. In no time Emma’s eyes had focused on her, even as her chest still heaved. “I want- you-” she sputtered. “I want to make you feel- I want to do that for you.”

Regina chuckled indugently, adoringly, at her verbal flailing. “Anything you like.”

Then Emma was pushing her over onto her back, as hungry and eager as she had been earlier. The blonde’s mouth trailed down her body, felt amazing on her nipples again for a few delightful moments before tracing a wandering path of kisses on her ribs, belly, hipbones—and then the barmaid froze when  settled between her legs.

Seeing the anxiety in her eyes, Regina reached down to caress her face. “You don’t have to,” she soothed.

“I want to,” Emma insisted. “I don’t know how.”

“It’s difficult to go wrong with tongue on a clit, dear,” the older woman teased slightly. At Emma’s blank look, she realized that the blonde’s sexual knowledge was probably more of the practical sort. Reaching down, she spread herself with one hand and used the other to show where she meant. “Here,” she indicated, twitching slightly at her own touch. “The most sensitive place, though tongue feels wonderful anywhere.” Emma nodded, her eyes locked to the queen’s cunt, licking her lips, and it was all the older woman could do not to drag her mouth where she wanted it right that second. “Just try different touches and read me. You do that so well.”

The blonde nodded again, and the older woman nearly forgot to breathe in anticipation as she brought her mouth down. When the barmaid made a first slow swipe of her tongue it was so good she couldn’t even bring herself to be embarrassed at the sound it pulled from her throat. At first, Emma’s touch was exquisitely, almost maddeningly gentle. The blonde began by exploring with slow, wet strokes of her tongue—the outer edge; the inner edge; inside as far as her tongue could reach; and then, and only then, directly on Regina’s clit, but easy and soft and sweet.

And then the blonde pulled away slightly to look up with wonder in her eyes. “It _is_ beautiful and intimate,” she breathed.

Regina was pleading, “Please, my darling, don’t stop” before she could control herself, and the barmaid groaned and began licking steadily. She was so enthusiastic, moaning into her, and god, it was amazing. The queen wanted to close her eyes and drift on the waves of sensation, but those bright green eyes staring up at her in utter adoration made it impossible to look away.

This was unbearably good, that perfect mouth doing unspeakably perfect things, and Regina felt her desire spiraling up quickly.

When the blonde pulled away again, she was on the verge of pleading, but then Emma said just five words that changed _everything._ “I love you, my queen.” And her whole lower face was shiny, and her eyes were so full of feeling, and Regina was still processing when the barmaid lowered her mouth again, and it suddenly felt like incredibly _more_.

The queen shuddered prodigiously for long, searingly good moments of relentless, perfect tongue, and then she was clenching in an orgasm so powerful the world seemed to stop.

When Emma came back up to lay beside her, Regina could, weakly, use one hand to grab the back of Emma’s head and kiss her own wetness off her face. Once she had slightly more control back, she murmured, “And I love you, my darling.”

**

It was fortunate that that they had come to articulate their connection, because the next day the barmaid’s scoundrel of a husband returned.

Regina was rounding the corner from the stable to the tavern, smiling to herself at the thought of seeing her beloved again, when she spotted them arguing in the street, and it stopped her cold. The blonde threw up her hands in frustration and began to walk away and the man chased after her, grabbed her arm hard enough to bruise, made her turn. The queen’s fingers curled, reaching for magic to incinerate him on the spot. With great effort, she let it slip away.

It felt like a dull knife tearing a messy, hand-span sized hole in her chest to see Emma with this awful man at all, let alone like this, the strain around her eyes clear even at this distance, obviously not eager to go home with him. Regina watched, unable to look away, until the barmaid gave up and went with her husband back into the tavern.

The door closing behind them brought the queen back to full awareness. She didn’t bother returning for her horse, but rather took herself home in a puff of magical smoke.

**

Emma’s face in ecstasy, gorgeous, eyes full of love, contorting in a flash into a grimace of pain, her husband-

Regina sat bolt upright, her head thudding as if an entire unit of cavalry were charging into battle inside it, her bedding soaked with sweat. It was fine, she told herself. The captain would go to sea again. She and Emma could resume their relationship. There was no sense in torturing herself imagining outcomes. Everything would be fine.

She was still sitting there, arms wrapped around her knees, staring off into the distance, when the sun came up hours later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the updated tags. Really look at them. There is CaptainSwan marital sex here. There is obligation-derived heterosexuality here. And this chapter is dark.

That night in their bed, Emma was startled by how heavy Killian was on top of her compared to Regina. His muscles were nice, to be sure, but her queen had strong thighs from riding and was so soft and smooth. The barmaid had never before minded her husband’s smell, a little musky perhaps but entirely bearable—but when the alternative was the delicate scent Regina wore, or the intoxicating scent of her arousal, he was decidedly less appealing.

The blonde was startled to realize that she had never thought much about such things at all. Killian was a good provider and had an interest in her that would not be denied, and so she had made what seemed like a good choice and married him. She didn’t know that there could be . . . _more._  She didn’t know it was possible to feel so deeply connected to someone, to crave their company so much its absence was almost painful.

And she had absolutely no concept that there could be such a thing as this _desire_.

Sex had been a duty, a chore, something you gave your man because it kept him happy. But now, with the things Regina had made her feel, the barmaid was clenching her thighs together, her body almost unbearably eager to be brought to such heights of pleasure again. Equally much, she wanted to touch her queen again, to taste her, to see the nearly inhuman beauty of her face in ecstasy.

It had been because Emma had been thinking about the older woman all day, her mind wandering every chance it got, that Killian had found her welcome of him so lacking, had made a scene outside in the street over her not giving him the attention he was due. Too tired to fight—missing Regina too keenly—she had arranged for Henry to sleep elsewhere as a peace offering and given herself over to him.

“Wet for me, tonight, love,” the captain smirked as he mounted her after his usual perfunctory foreplay of grinding against her and being entirely too rough with her breasts. He was too selfish to try much or wait long, and he only ever got her just moist enough for penetration to be possible—but nothing like pleasant. On the few occasions that she’d been too unready even for him and he’d used his tongue to speed the process, he had complained bitterly about the imposition.

“Not so dried up and useless after all,” and his snide comment became a grunt as he pushed in. And, damn it all, the blonde _was_ quite slick, though it was surely not the result of his halfhearted attempts. She felt caught between relief that it ached less than usual to have him inside and irritation that he thought her body’s response to the memory of Regina had anything to do with him.

It was so different with the older woman, felt like liquid heat racing through her body, joy exploding along every nerve, intensity and trust and care. It was nothing like having Killian rutting away on top of her, entirely indifferent to her. The barmaid could not believe she had ever found this bearable. She wanted to forget herself, let her mind leave her body to its fate and relish her night with her queen. But that felt like a betrayal, a contamination of the purity of her love for Regina to bring it anywhere near this sad scene. And so she just tightened her jaw to bear it. It never lasted long anyway.

**

The next day as she was clearing dirty plates from a table, wondering disconsolately how she could avoid having to sate her husband’s needs again tonight, a small boy appeared at her elbow.

“Miss?” he asked uncertainly, holding out a folded scrap of paper. She blinked at him in confusion, then took it, and he was scampering out the door again before she could ask any questions.

When she opened the note, however, all became clear. There, in elegant script, read “My darling, I must see you. Meet me in the hayloft at sunset. –R” A surge of excitement rushed through her, and she tucked it carefully into her bodice. Her day had suddenly improved dramatically.

**

Emma couldn’t see Regina at first when she came up the ladder, the older woman stepping out of the shadows only once the barmaid had closed the trapdoor behind herself. The instant she spotted her queen the blonde was reaching to embrace her, breathing “Regina.”

“Hello, my love,” came the reply, low and intimate in her ear as the older woman slid into her arms, and in the next moment Emma had turned her head to find the queen’s lips, a little sound of need low in her throat.  Regina’s mouth was so soft, but so insistent, and god, she needed this to last forever.

Then, as the queen deepened the kiss, she also began walking the barmaid backward and in a few steps she had her up against the wall, pressing one thigh between hers and rocking into her as best she could with her skirts. After long moments kissing deeply, she pulled away slightly and ran the edge of her teeth down the blonde’s jaw. “Is he good to you? Does he do to you the things that I do?”

“No- nothing like you-” Emma insisted. “God, my queen, you feel so good.”

“I can take you higher,” Regina breathed before kissing down her neck with a hot, open mouth, and god, the barmaid needed to taste her, was grabbing frantically at the laces of her leather pants as she pushed them both off the wall. Cursing her heavy skirts all the while, she sank to her knees as she tucked her fingers into the waistband. The blonde proceeded to peel the leather down slowly, spending many long moments kissing her queen’s thighs, stroking her cheek and nose on her skin, sinking her teeth in a little here and there just to get her in her mouth.

Once Emma had Regina stripped to the ankles, she looked up at her, and when she met her eyes, darkened with desire, the world seemed to stop. “I love you” bubbled up from her heart and out of her mouth without so much as a thought, and the older woman’s answering declaration became a moan as she brought her tongue to her sex.

God, though the blonde had done this only once before, she was quickly coming to adore everything about it, from the velvety softness of her queen in her mouth to the slickness and heat. And she was also rapidly learning exactly how to please Regina. Slow, easy strokes at first, curling her tongue over that spot that made the older woman’s fingers tighten in her hair and then back down again. Then, gradually, Emma sped up, swirling her tongue, fluttering it, reveling in how wet her face was with Regina’s desire.

“Inside me, please,” the queen breathed, and the barmaid moaned against her as she brought two fingers up to push inside, as she had before. Fuck, the liquid heat of her, the way her internal muscles grasped so eagerly at Emma’s fingers, was almost painfully perfect. She needed this; she loved this; she loved this woman completely. The blonde was sucking at her queen now, relishing her moans. She knew Regina was getting closer to her peak, could feel her tightening around her fingers, could hear her getting breathier. The older woman’s panting “Humh! Humh!” sparked along Emma’s skin, an ecstasy of making this woman feel amazing.

Then Regina was coming, shuddering, crying out, her knees buckling enough that Emma clutched at her and stood as soon as she could to hold her up. The blonde held her queen as she trembled, cradling her head against her shoulder for long, intimate moments.

And then the older woman was moving, guiding her back toward the wall, pulling at her skirts with eager hands. Regina had them lifted up in no time, positioning herself between the blonde’s thighs in a way that was only tenable because she was held up by the wall.

It was awkward as hell but Emma didn’t care. She craved the closeness and wished they were someplace with a bed so that her queen could press against her properly. As the older woman’s hand found its way into her undergarments, as her fingers found their way into her, the barmaid longed to wrap her legs around her and move her hips to meet her touch. God, Regina felt every bit as wonderful as she remembered, and she moaned loudly, then blinked. “Shit, we’re in public.”

“Are you just thinking of that?” the queen teased lightly, fingers continuing to stroke her unabated. “Don’t worry. We are protected from discovery.”

Emma blinked in confusion. “How?”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Surely you’re aware that your queen is an accomplished practitioner of magic?”

“You’re certainly doing something magical right now,” Emma breathed, quite sincerely. The older woman stopped moving completely for a moment to stare at her, then huffed a small laugh and captured her lips in another searing kiss as her hand began to move again, making the barmaid moan into her mouth. This was weightless and it was wonderful, the pleasure racing through her body as Regina filled her, stroked her, loved her.

Very soon she was shuddering hard, gasping against the queen’s kiss, clutching hard at her back. She felt the wave of heat building, more and higher, and then it broke over her and her body went rigid in ecstasy.

**

Emma kept the memory of her stolen minutes with the queen close to her through her evening shift, smiling softly when no one was looking. She was humming a pleased little tune as she came into her quarters, only to find her husband standing in the middle of the room holding a familiar scrap of paper.

“Who is he?” he demanded. “This R. Robin? Rupert? Reginald?” The barmaid’s eyes went instinctively to her small wooden box of sentimental possessions, which was, predictably, scattered all over the bed. She would have cursed herself for being so stupid as to leave the note where Killian could find it, but frankly, she hadn’t known he could read.

“I had heard rumors that you had some other lover, but I didn’t want to believe that you could be so foolish,” he snarled, advancing on her. “You’re _mine_ , Swan. I won your heart fair and square and as my wife you belong to me, body and soul. It’s time I reminded you of that.”

“Oh fuck off, Killian-” she began, and he hit her hard across the face, making her stumble into the heavy wooden table. The blonde was so startled by this turn of events that the captain was on her before she could react, grabbing her by the throat, pressing her back down into it. She tried to kick, hit, use her not-inconsiderable bar fight skills, but with him already on top of her she had no leverage and it was little better than slapping.

Then he squeezed her throat and she took the warning and stopped struggling. Perhaps she could placate him and he would stop. Perhaps he would let his guard down if she stopped struggling. But then his free hand started grabbing at her bodice, breaking the laces, and oh god- oh god- she wanted to be anywhere but in her body right now.

“Leave my mother alone!”


	7. Chapter 7

Regina turned their adventure in the hayloft over in her mind throughout the evening as well, and into the next day. She was still thinking of it, eyes staring off into the distance as she lost herself in the memory of Emma’s eager mouth between her thighs, as she left the castle the next morning on a survey of some nearby forestry. They had traveled only a short while when she was startled out of her reverie by her carriage stopping abruptly.

Pulling down the window-glass, she demanded of the guard riding protective duty beside her, “What is the matter?”

“It’s nothing, Your Majesty. A peasant woman and her son are in the roadway. They are insisting that they be allowed to see you. We’ll have them dispersed shortly.”

“A woman and a boy?” she asked, not really meaning to say it aloud.

“Aye, Your Majesty, but we’ll-”

“Bring them to me,” she demanded without even thinking. It couldn’t be, it was ridiculous, she was foolish to even think- and then there they were, Emma and Henry, both badly bruised. She had the door thrown open in an instant and had almost completely forgotten her station and stepped down to reach them before she could think. Then she remembered herself. Her authority was always precariously balanced on not seeming soft. “Footman!” she called. “Help my guests into my carriage.”

It was only once they were moving again, the queen having ordered the whole retinue to turn around and return to the castle, that she dared be _Regina_ again. “Emma, what-” she began, only to see the woman shake her head almost imperceptibly, her eyes sliding meaningfully to her son beside her.

“Henry was very brave,” the barmaid answered.

“I don’t doubt it,” the older woman agreed, going along in an instant.

“I’m nothing special,” the boy muttered, his speech slurred from his split lip and swollen jaw. “Small, weak.” The bitterness in his tone was almost palpable.

“You have a fierce and loyal heart, Henry,” Regina coaxed, moving across the carriage to sit between the two of them. “Weren’t you just telling me last week how you stood up to those bigger boys who were tormenting that poor dog? That’s the strength that matters, not physical power or magic.” She paused and waited for him to meet her eye, and then asked, “As valiantly earned as your wounds are, may I heal them?”

The boy hesitated for a moment, long enough that the queen wondered if she had gone too far, but she felt Emma reach across her to squeeze Henry’s knee, resting her hand flat and warm on Regina’s waist as she did. “It’s alright,” the barmaid insisted, and her son nodded agreement.

**

Both mother and son looked quite a lot better by the time they returned to Regina’s castle, the queen not only having healed their wounds but magicking away their torn and dirty clothing in favor of garments more suitable for the castle. Regina slipped easily and fully into being the queen when they arrived, walking imperiously ahead, issuing orders for baths to be drawn and food to be brought. Emma and Henry were treated like honored guests throughout the day, feasted, given the grand tour of the castle and grounds.

When Henry was safely ensconced in one of the guest rooms, enjoying a real bed to himself for the first time in his short life, Emma thoroughly assured that he was perfectly safe in the castle, the queen guided the blonde her chambers.

The instant the door was closed behind them, Regina murmured, “God, my love, please, tell me what happened?” unable to bear the images her mind was conjuring in the absence of an explanation.

“My husband found your note,” Emma gritted out, looking away, clearly ashamed.

 “I’ll kill him,” Regina found herself growling in the next moment.

 “Yeah, about that,” the blonde murmured, eyes still downcast. “Do you think I could get a royal pardon?”

The queen’s breath rushed out of her. “Oh god, my darling. Yes, of course, but why-”

“You do _not_ lay a hand on my son.” Her voice was hard in a way the queen had never heard.

“Oh, Emma,” the older woman breathed. She crossed the distance between them, took the barmaid by the hand, and guided her over to sit on the bed. “What happened? Please, tell me from the beginning.”

“My husband found the note you sent to me with the boy-” she repeated, then paused. “Who was that?”

“Me,” the queen murmured. “I couldn’t very well entrust it to an actual child.”

Emma gave the smallest possible shadow of a smile. “When I came in, Killian was standing there with it, and he started interrogating me about my other man.” Her lips quirked wryly, but the smile slid just as quickly from her face. “And then he insisted that I was his property.” The blonde swallowed hard. “And when I protested he hit me.”

Regina made a low sound of horror in her throat. She had known someone must have, for there was no other possible origin of the injuries with which the barmaid and her son had arrived, but to hear her say it-

But the blonde was not finished. “He was on me before I could think. Before I could move.” She paused for a long, long moment, and then went on almost inaudibly, “I’m strong. I’m so strong. I throw men larger than him out of the tavern when I need to, with or without Granny’s crossbow, but-” she trailed off, looking down at her hands.

Regina laid her hand on top of them, squeezing gently. “You were in shock,” she insisted. “It could happen to anyone.”

“And then,” and Emma's voice broke, “he started to undress me. He was going to-” Regina suddenly felt as if death was too good for him, but shook off her rage to care for the blonde, sliding closer and wrapping her arms around her. “I couldn’t stop him. He had my throat and he was so heavy on top of me and-” all the queen could do was hold her as she trembled with suppressed emotion. “And then Henry came in and shouted at him to stop. Fortunately, he hadn’t really torn my clothes much. Not to the point where it would be horrible for Henry to see.” Emma’s recitation stopped there for a long, long moment, and the queen just pressed against her, aching for her pain.

“Killian told him to stay out of it, that his bitch of a mother needed to learn her place, and the next thing I knew he’d released me because Henry had flown at him in a rage, hitting, kicking. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so terrifying,” the barmaid said in an aside. “I don’t know where he’s been learning to fight.” She shook herself. “But Killian hit him and it sent him tumbling across the room- He lay so still-” the blonde stopped again, and again the queen waited, her forehead resting on the blonde’s shoulder and her eyes closed in sympathy.

“Something snapped in me,” Emma continued, finally. “I was so afraid for Henry, for myself, and I don’t- I don’t remember what happened. I just knew I had to stop him.” She shook her head. “The next thing I knew Henry was calling to me, and I realized I was on top of Killian, hitting him with the salt cellar. There was so much blood. He wasn’t moving, and I couldn’t feel a pulse, and-” she looked Regina in the eye for the first time since this conversation began, “All I could think of was getting to you. We caught a ride through the night with a-” her lips quirked, “traveling merchant.” In the next instant she was looking away again. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Regina tightened her arms. “You were thinking that you know someone who has the power and inclination to protect you.”

“I don’t know what to do,” the barmaid murmured. “I can’t go back to the tavern. But even if they don’t hang me no one will hire a murderess.”

“Stay here with me.” The suggestion was out of the queen’s mouth on the thought, before she could consider.

Emma stiffened in her embrace. “And be your courtesan? I’m no one’s whore, Regina, no matter how good the sex is.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the older woman said, cupping the blonde’s face and urging her to meet her gaze. “I don’t expect anything like that. You don’t even have to share my bed. There are entire suites of unused rooms where you can live a life of leisure.”

The barmaid was scandalized. “I can’t not work.”

Regina chuckled affectionately at her work ethic. “Then do anything you like. Be my steward. Run my kitchens. Be my adviser on commoners. Be my stable girl.” Her heart seized in her chest to say it, but if anyone could finally heal the loss of Daniel it would be this woman, with whom she had such an immediate connection, shared so many experiences, experienced such intimacy. It had slipped out, but she found she meant exactly that. This woman who set her body on fire and her soul at ease _could_ mend the tear that had been in her soul for ten years.

Emma looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time all day, because it wasn’t as if she didn’t know the story, and her face was filled with awe. “You would want that?”

“I do,” Regina breathed, feeling herself giving one of the joyous, whole smiles she hadn’t had since she was just a girl. This moment felt full of possibility and wonder, but her carefully cultivated pragmatism reasserted herself. Things were delightful, but it was better not to get ahead of herself. “I’ll have a room made up for you.”

“And if I’d rather wake up in your arms?” The question was uncertain, but as she met Emma’s eyes the feeling in them was steady and true. That was certainly a place to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a Very Smutty Epilogue (TM) but that's the story part of it. Tremendous gratitude to all of you for enduring obscene waits between chapters, and I hope it was worth it! 
> 
> I also hope that people find this chapter cathartic given the fuckery going on on the show at the moment. ;-)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as often happens, smutty epilogue got long, so there will be two parts just to not make you wait any longer.

_Several months later_

Emma greeted Regina's carriage in the courtyard when she returned, partially because she knew such attendance was expected of her as the queen's steward, but mostly because the older woman had been gone for nearly a week and the blonde missed her terribly. As Regina stepped gracefully down, Emma bowed with the rest of the staff and greeted, "Welcome home, Your Majesty."

Regina's expression was regal, bordering on haughty, and anyone who didn't know her extremely well would think she found them all beneath contempt. But the blonde could see the tiniest hint of softness around her eyes, the one indication of how deeply she cared for her.

Lengthy meetings followed, apprising the queen of all the happenings in the castle during her absence. Regina had left Emma with a magical mirror to contact her with anything urgent, and so this was a litany of the mundane. The former barmaid did thoroughly appreciate, however, that one of the goings-on in her household in which the older woman took a personal interest was Henry’s education. Regina had insisted on hiring the best tutors, suitable for Henry’s position as resident in her castle, and always asked detailed questions about how his training was coming along, from reading to mathematics to horsemanship. Finally the recounting was complete, and then it was time for the feast Emma had lovingly arranged for her queen’s return.

Numerous delicious courses and hours later, the queen retired to her chambers, and Emma went along with her. "I had the women draw a bath for you," the former barmaid murmured once they were thoroughly alone, tipping her head at the huge, steaming tub in the corner. “During the last dessert course so it should be the perfect temperature by now.” She found that she fit quite nicely into running the castle, her experience in the tavern serving her well. Regina had declared that she had complete authority and full access to the queen's chambers, and no one save the queen herself could overrule her.

The older woman smiled, the queen falling away to reveal the woman as she held out her hand. "Join me?"

The blonde was only too happy to do so, but first she slowly and reverently removed her queen’s traveling clothes, intermittently pressing soft kisses against newly revealed skin. When Regina was bare, the former barmaid quickly stripped herself as well and then got in first as was their wont.

The older woman sighed as she sank into the perfumed water. They both sighed as she lay back, their bodies fitting together in a way that felt so, so right.

“Missed you,” the blonde murmured, wrapping her arms around her queen and tipping her head forward to rest on her shoulder. "You were gone so long. Is there going to be war?"

"It's looking likely,” Regina confirmed. “But we can discuss it tomorrow. Tonight I just want to be in your arms." Emma hummed agreement and reached for the soap. Lathering her hands, she began slowly washing her queen. The motion of her hands was purposeful, but she also lingered on curves and smooth skin, enjoying the simple intimacy of touch. Before long, the former barmaid began pressing sweet kisses on the older woman’s shoulder, neck, jawline, and then Regina turned her head and their mouths met. It was slow and easy, a reconnection.

Gradually their caresses intensified, eager tongues meeting as their hands ran hungrily over as much of the other as they could reach. When the first low moan escaped Regina’s throat it sounded like a gift. Emma was delighted by the queen gasping into her mouth when her hands cupped her breasts, but the way she dropped her head back onto the blonde’s shoulder and dug her fingertips into her thighs at the first soft touch on her nipples was simply glorious.

The former barmaid’s first touches were light, almost teasing, just enjoying the slight weight of Regina’s breasts in her hands and brushing her thumbs across. But she was as eager to touch as the older woman was to be touched, and soon she was pinching and pulling and rolling her nipples gently, loving the little “um!”s it pulled from her queen. When she began to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along Regina’s neck, her hips jerked, sending a wave through the tub and sloshing up the sides.

Emma was groaning around the flesh in her mouth and sliding one hand down the older woman’s body in an instant, over the soft curve of belly and between her thighs. The slickness of her arousal was palpable even in the water, and they both groaned as the blonde’s fingers made contact.

“God I’m glad you’re home,” the former barmaid murmured, beginning to stroke her slowly but intently. She knew her queen’s body so well now, but every time they loved one another was still utterly magical. She adored the way Regina’s hips would roll to meet caresses. She reveled in hearing her little panted “ah!”s become “oh!”s become “nn!”s. Knowing that she was making this marvelous woman feel such pleasure never ceased to fill her with awe—at least until she became too focused on doing it to think abstractly any longer.

Soon Emma left off her nipple play to slide her second hand down to Regina’s sex, pushing two fingers inside as she began to rub faster, more intense circles. The queen shuddered hard and reached over her shoulder to tangle fingers in blonde hair with one hand, gripping Emma’s thigh with the other to anchor herself.  The angle wasn’t ideal, but former barmaid loved being inside her queen so much, and she filled her enthusiastically with the tiny range of motion she could muster. Soon she could feel Regina getting close to climax, tightening around her fingers as her moans became breathy and her hips twitched so hard the bath was like a storm-tossed sea and the blonde nearly lost contact.

Then the older woman was coming, her body snapping up and sending a wave of water completely over the edge of the tub as she gave a low cry.

Emma cradled her queen adoringly as she shuddered through the aftershocks, pressing more sweet kisses to her neck and shoulder. This woman was utterly amazing, and the blonde found herself groaning, “God I want to taste you.”

Regina huffed a small chuckle. “Ordinarily I would not decline, but if you do that in the bathtub you'll drown."

"Eh,” Emma shrugged, knowing the older woman could feel it against her back. “Might be worth it."

"Or we could get out,” the queen suggested dryly.

“Or we could get out," the blonde agreed freely. A little playful bite to Regina’s shoulder, then she extricated herself from behind her and got out. Drying herself quickly, she grabbed a second large piece of toweling and held it out to receive the older woman. The queen rose gracefully and stepped out of the bath into Emma’s fluffy embrace, kissing her soundly and making her “mmph!” with surprise.

The former barmaid reveled in the contact for long moments, drying as much as she could reach with her mouth so delightfully occupied, but eventually, and reluctantly, pulled away to dry down her queen’s legs. Once the task was complete, she set the towel aside and stayed kneeling, looking up mischievously at Regina and beginning to kiss up her thigh.

“We have a perfectly good bed,” the older woman insisted, the queen returning just a bit in this moment to be scandalized by the idea of being so uncivilized without a very pressing circumstance.

Emma just laughed and nipped lightly at her hip as she rose, then swooped Regina up into her arms in one easy motion. She had made exactly two steps toward the bed when the queen scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous" and they were beside the bed with a single gesture.

"I could have carried you," the former barmaid insisted, somewhat disappointed.

The older woman kissed her sweetly. "I don't doubt it, my love, but the last thing either of us need is to have our night of ecstasy curtailed because the floor is wet and you slipped and fell.”

Emma hummed rueful agreement and laid her queen down onto the expansive surface of the bed. Regina quickly slid herself upward to recline against the veritable mountain of pillows at the head. Once she was settled, her eyes raked up the blonde’s body slowly, hungrily, and when their eyes met Emma’s _everything_ felt a jolt because that gaze could start a fire. The queen beckoned with a single finger.


	9. Chapter 9

Regina watched, delighted, as the blonde’s breath caught and she licked her lips. Then Emma was moving quickly, on the bed and between her legs in an instant. The former barmaid locked eyes with her and began lavishing kisses on her thighs as she moved steadily upward, and they both began to pant slightly in anticipation. At the first slow, easy stroke of Emma’s tongue, the queen’s eyes fluttered shut, breaking their stare, but she also heard her own moan echoed against her cunt.

Emma began to swipe the flat of her tongue over all of Regina, and god had the older woman missed this intimacy intolerably. The touch was soft and wet and oh so warm and this was exquisite. The blonde went on and on like that, easy, adoring, and incredibly absorbed, so long that the queen found herself slightly impatient with being worshiped rather than fucked, groaning “Emma” because she needed _more._

When the former barmaid looked up, the older woman rolled her hips a little in encouragement, and that was the only request the blonde needed. In the next moment she was tonguing her queen steady and direct, curling her tongue at the top of the stroke and yes, _this_ was what Regina wanted.  Gradually, the blonde intensified her touch further, eating eagerly, licking and humming, staring up at her with so much love in those bright green eyes that it made the physical sensation impossibly better.

Soon, the queen’s hips were twitching hard once more, and Emma wrapped strong arms around her thighs to keep her in place as she fluttered her tongue faster. She so loved how the former barmaid took charge like this now, self-assured in her knowledge of how to give Regina pleasure even as she still seemed entirely amazed by it all, pulling away to murmur, “I love you, my queen.”

And god, her face was so wet with Regina’s desire that it sent a wave of _need_ through the older woman. Regina had her fingers threaded through blonde hair in the next breath, pulling her mouth back where it should be. Emma moaned into her again and then began to suck, swirling her tongue the way that always brought her to shattering orgasms, and Regina was groaning, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” through gritted teeth because it was almost painfully good.

The queen felt herself spiraling higher and higher, Emma having to hold onto her hard now because she was twitching so dramatically, and then the orgasm broke over her, white-hot and perfect.

As she shuddered prodigiously with aftershocks, Emma began to crawl up to lay beside her, but she found she needed her close-closer-closest. Unable to really formulate the request, she simply clutched at the blonde, legs and arms locking around her to pull her down on top, clinging to her. Emma squeaked a little in surprise, but went right along, settling into the cradle of her hips and beginning to kiss and nuzzle her.

It was several minutes before Regina stopped trembling, but as soon as she did she cupped the blonde’s face in both hands to kiss her deeply. When they broke apart long moments later, she murmured, "My turn."

Emma grinned. "I'll never turn you down."

“Good girl,” Regina purred, the afterglow still singing through her veins feeling enough like power to bring out the queen a little bit. “Onto your back for me, my love,” she commanded, and the former barmaid obeyed eagerly.

As well as the blonde knew her at this point, so did the queen know her in turn. She was well aware that Emma would be sopping wet and needy after touching her for so long, and so she did not hesitate, moving down the bed purposefully and settling herself between the blonde’s legs. Some nights she would tease, nipping up Emma’s thighs, breathing hotly on her cunt, giving little pecks of kisses until she begged. But tonight, with the former barmaid so aroused she was nearly dripping, open and swollen and gorgeous like this, she had to begin tasting her immediately.

The first stroke of her tongue wasn’t soft, but it was slow, and thorough. For many long moments she caressed the blonde firmly, steadily, loving the extraordinary slickness of her and her incredible heat. Very, very gradually she began to move faster, alternating between flicking up from underneath and rolling her tongue down from above, looking up at her, loving the way her chest was beginning to heave.

When Emma pleaded, “Inside me, please, my queen,” Regina moaned into her and then filled her in the next moment. It felt so good to touch her this way, fucking her intently, exactly the way she knew the former barmaid liked it, making her hiss in appreciation.

Fingers and tongue quickly found a rhythm with Emma’s body, giving her more and more as she began to moan constantly. The queen stayed with her as her body curled up on itself, tensing, getting so, so close, and then the blonde was coming, and god was she beautiful.

Regina slowed her touches, but didn’t stop them entirely, and as soon as she felt the tension drain out of the former barmaid she intensified her caress once more, easing her through the last of the first orgasm and toward the second.

“Fuck, baby,” Emma groaned, and she chuckled in delight at having moved her to profanity. And still she was stroking, her fingers and tongue steady, gentle but entirely insistent on the blonde’s pleasure. Then the former barmaid reached down to coax her chin up, and the queen part of her was slightly abashed at the sound of disappointment she made. Emma smiled fondly down her body at her, then asked, “Together?”

The older woman blinked. “Oh.”

“Come up here so that I can be inside you too,” the blonde pleaded, and yes, that was most definitely an excellent idea.

The queen moved upward and settled astride one strong thigh, and for a moment Emma just _looked_ at her, all adoration. It hit Regina hard in the chest, raced along every nerve, and in the next moment when the blonde’s fingers caressed her and then pushed inside she felt it in her soul. Her own fingers slid home the moment after, and everything about this was achingly right.

They began to move together, fingers caressing steadily, easily, hips rocking to meet each other, eyes locked. And god, this was impossibly more perfect than Regina would have ever thought a connection could be, intimate and caring while also pleasure like fire in her veins.

Suddenly, the intensity swept her up and she threw her head back, shuddering hard, but still filling Emma up, still riding her hand. When she opened her eyes to look at the blonde again, she saw that her gaze was riveted to the slight bounce of her breasts as she moved. The desire on her face had Regina moaning and leaning down to kiss her soundly.

And oh! This was unimaginably better, kissing slow and deep, Emma clutching slickly at her fingers at the same time that she was filling her so well. Soon their kisses were punctuated by gasps into one another’s mouths and they were clutching at one another with their free hands, trying to pull each other impossibly closer, a unity of sweat and skin and breath. This wasn’t hard and frantic the way they sometimes were, but it was so intense that as the queen felt Emma’s body begin to tense and herself begin to get closer she wasn’t sure quite how they’d survive it.

The blonde came first, faltering out of her rhythm but trying desperately to keep it up even as she shuddered and gasped, and that dedication made Regina feel so utterly loved that in the next breath she was coming as well.

They lay for long moments, sweaty, panting, shuddering—and still inside each other, linked so, so intimately.

Eventually, regretfully, Regina had to pull off of Emma’s hand, too sensitive now for such touch, and she eased her own fingers out afterward. Settling down next to the blonde, head tucked into her shoulder and the rest of her mostly draped over, her world slotted into place and she gasped with the realization.

“Regina?” the former barmaid asked, tipping her chin up to meet her eyes.

“I have something to ask you, my love,” she murmured.

“Of course, my queen. Anything,” Emma replied, and Regina had never more sure of anything in her life, not even- Daniel. She realized in that moment that it didn’t hurt to think of him anymore, and it was a slow breath of recognition. Yes. Yes.

“I was reminded by some snide comments from Midas that I have no heir, and that if I were to die the kingdom would revert back to Snow automatically,” she explained.

The older woman could see the blonde’s mind begin to work immediately. “I’ll speak to the captain of the guard. We’ll double the watch for assassins. Is there something magical you can-”

“Emma, Emma,” she chuckled adoringly. “Em!” When her steward finally stopped enumerating plans for her safety, she clarified, “I would like to name Henry as my heir.”

The former barmaid blinked, then sputtered for several moments before she could manage, “Won’t people think it’s odd that he’s my son?”

“They won’t if you become my consort,” the queen said simply, because it was obvious.

She could see that she had shocked Emma into silence, and so she let her be for long, long moments, long enough that she felt the slightest sliver of fear that she had misjudged their intimacy. And then the blonde breathed, “I’m just a street rat.”

Regina chuckled and kissed her softly, then met her eyes to insist, playfully, “But you’re _my_ street rat.” Then she became serious. “Honestly, now that you’ve been walking around dressed as a minor noble for months, acting the part, I doubt anyone remembers the few minutes when you were dressed as a peasant in front of my retinue. Certainly they all treat you as Lady Emma, do they not?”

“Yes. But you know it’s not real,” the blonde insisted, looking away.

Regina caught her chin with gentle fingers to make her meet her eyes. “What is real is that you are the person I love and want to share my life with, Emma Swan. The question is whether you want that as well.”

Emma broke into her widest, most joyous smile. “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay y'all this is really now, at long last, complete. it's been a fun time and i thank you for your patience with how long it has taken me to complete it. hopefully the end product is worth the wait.


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